Sometimes people will ask others to tell an embarrassing story about themselves. I have a few of those. Some of my stories I would consider embarrassing; others humiliating; and still others downright horrific.
The thing about embarrassing stories is that sometimes they don’t sound embarrassing to other people. I’ll tell the story and they will say, “That’s not so bad.” Then I feel compelled to delve into the humiliating or horrific.
So for today’s story, I will start with embarrassing. Go ahead. Tell me it’s not so bad!
I am terrible singer. I cannot carry a tune. I am tone deaf. In school musicals I was asked to lip synch. I don’t feel bad about this – God has given me many talents, but singing is simply not on the list. However, I love, love, love to sing. If I am alone, I am often singing and singing very loudly. When my daughters were babies I sang to them all the time. As soon as my girls could talk, they would say “Stop singing, mommy.”
One day I was home alone, washing the dishes with my ipod plugged into my ears. The Indigo Girls were playing and I was singing along, loud and proud, and most definitely off key. I was shouting along, really. I was also dancing, which is one of the few things I do worse than singing.
A tap on my shoulder scared the bejezus out of me – I tuned to find my husband standing behind me. I’m not sure which one of us was more embarrassed. I yanked the headphones out of my ears and felt my face go up in flames.
Me: “How long have you been standing there?”
Him: “Um, a few minutes. I wasn’t sure how to get your attention without scaring you. You were just singing so.. loud.”
Not so bad, right? Try it yourself. I dare you.